


Make Me Sick

by analog_romeo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Emetophilia, Sickfic, just Morty pining, no actual Rick/Morty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analog_romeo/pseuds/analog_romeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty's into some weird shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Me Sick

Morty's always had confusing feelings for his grandpa.

He dismissed it as simply admiration for a while, the way a lot of boys look up to a male figure in their life. Soon he realized how bullshit that was, considering what a shitty person Rick is. Nonetheless, he wanted his grandpa to be proud of him, in more ways than he would've liked to. It didn't help that Rick was barely 60, and... Morty couldn't bring himself to say it, but his grandpa was _attractive_.

No. _No._ He did _not_ find his grandpa attractive.

Except he really, _really_ did.

There were times when Morty would touch himself, and he would think of Jessica. But his mind would start to wander, and he would fantasize about men despite himself. Most of the time they were just random guys from TV or movies, but sometimes he'd get a passing glimpse of his grandpa.

 _Gross._ Morty did _not_ have feelings for his grandpa. _Gross. Gross. Gross._

There were times when Rick would laugh at his jokes, or tousle his hair, or genuinely smile at him - and he never smiles at anyone - and Morty's heart would flutter. He would almost feel like giggling, but he'd hold himself back. Because that's _gay._ Even worse, it's his _grandpa._

And even if he did have a thing for Rick - which he didn't - it wouldn't help that Morty was turned on by the littlest things.

Like burping, for example.

“Just you wait until you see what I gotta show ya, Morty,” he slurred, dropping a now empty bottle behind the driver’s seat.

Rick had brought Morty along, as usual, on some kind of midnight adventure. Being a little bit tipsy was the norm for him, but Morty was a little uneasy at how wasted his grandfather was. Either way he refrained from investigating; he’d just wait until they got there, like Rick said.

Drunkenly, his grandpa reached behind himself, searching blindly for another bottle of liquor.

“Hey, um-- a-are you okay, grandpa Rick?”

When he looked over in stupor his eyes were completely glassed over. “What’re ya talkin’ about, Morty? I’m--” he cut off with a belch that reeked of alcohol. “I’m fine,” he reassured.

“If you say so,” Morty shrugged, still tense and mildly worried.

Rick chugged back whatever bottle he was on - he’d lost count at this point. He didn’t usually drink this recklessly, which is why his grandson was so concerned. He wondered to himself if it was something he’d done, or if Rick was in another one of his depressed spells.

He polished it off and threw it aside, the glass of the bottle shattering out of view. Burping again, he wiped his drool off with his shoulder. “Reeeeeal special, what I gotta show you.”

Morty cringed despite himself at the wet sound. It was so gross, but it still made him heat up.

Again, Rick felt around behind the driver’s seat for more booze. “Ey, Morty, can ya-- can you help an old man out and find another bottle a’ that?”

“Y-yeah, sure, no problem,” he stuttered, his hands shaking. He unbuckled himself and turned just enough so that Rick’s stash was in reach, grabbed another bottle, and handed it over.

“Thank youuuuuuuuu,” Rick mumbled, meeting Morty’s grasp and brushing his hand much longer than he needed to before accepting the bottle. He was so close, Morty could feel the heat of his breath on his neck.

Morty’s own breath found a new pace but he withdrew quickly after letting go, sitting back in his seat and keeping his eyes forward.

He found himself entertained by the sounds of the liquid being gulped down Rick’s throat. The boy closed his eyes and tried not to imagine his adam’s apple bobbing each time he swallowed.

Suddenly the swallowing stopped and the sound was replaced with a deep, wet burp, followed by Rick laughing to himself. Morty’s eyes snapped open in shock and disgust at his loins stirring.

Before he could fathom another thought he heard Rick coughing up a lung.

“Whoa-- Rick, are you alright?”

He doubled over and clutched his stomach. “Ye-- yeah, I’m alright, Morty, I just--”

The color drained from his face and a long string of saliva gathered and broke from his lips. He coughed a few more times, then retched, before an ugly pool of green and yellow started spewing onto his lap. He leaned across his seat and into the empty space between him and his grandson, blowing chunks onto the floor.

Morty’s face turned a matching ghost pale and cold sweat began to gather on his forehead. The simmer in his body didn’t go down, it just boiled higher at the sight of Rick puking.

Breathing hard, the flooding started to calm down, and Rick relaxed in the position he’d been vomiting in. Abruptly, he gagged, belched, and then thrust his head downward as he heaved. More sickly yellows and browns splattered on the floor.

Keeping to himself, his head craned only slightly to view everything going on, Morty put a hand to his chest and tried to catch his breath. He was transfixed, completely absorbed.

There was no way. His grandpa was _throwing up right in front of him_ and he was popping wood.

_Gross._


End file.
